


Retribution

by anastiel



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Aftercare, Blindfolds, Brat Jensen Ackles, Dom Misha Collins, Facials, Finger Sucking, Hand Jobs, Jensen is a slut, Light Bondage, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Punishment, Sub Jensen Ackles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:34:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22647985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anastiel/pseuds/anastiel
Summary: “You’re being a brat,” Misha states rather matter-of-factly, voice tinged with frustration.Jensen’s mouth twitches into a smirk and he shrugs, as much as he can with the rope binding his hands behind his back. “What can I say, it’s just one of those days.”
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Misha Collins
Comments: 3
Kudos: 114





	Retribution

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd as per usual. I have no reason for this other than I started thinking about Jensen sucking on Misha's fingers, so enjoy. ;)

“You’re being a brat,” Misha states rather matter-of-factly, voice tinged with frustration. 

Jensen’s mouth twitches into a smirk and he shrugs, as much as he can with the rope binding his hands behind his back. “What can I say, it’s just one of those days.” 

Misha just _looks_ at him, there’s an imperceptible shake of his head and then he takes a step closer. Jensen drops his gaze down to Misha’s shoes, knowing that will only annoy him more. Misha demands eye contact, so Jensen does the opposite. 

He hears Misha sigh and then there’s a thumb under his chin, forcing his gaze upward. 

“Goading me into spanking you won’t work, it’s supposed to be a punishment, Jensen, and right now that’s what you want.”

“I’ve been good?” Jensen offers. He knows he hasn’t.

Misha’s eyes darken and Jensen thinks, briefly, _got him._

“ _No_ , you haven’t. You’ve talked back all night. Do you honestly think I’m going to let you have _anything_ you want?”

“No, sir.”

His skin prickles under Misha’s constant gaze, and the disapproval radiating from him. The urge to obey rushes into Jensen, his own form of adrenaline, but he doesn’t succumb to it, lets it wash over him and tilts his chin up more, challenging.

Misha walks a slow circle around Jensen, the heels of his shoes echoing in the room and Jensen stays absolutely still, heat thrumming in his veins. 

“Are you ready to be good for me?” Misha asks once he’s finished observing Jensen, hands clasped in front of him. 

“I’m not sure,” Jensen answers and it comes out sassier than he intends.

Misha doesn’t answer. He walks away though, moves somewhere behind Jensen, wandering around the room. There’s the sound of shuffling in a drawer and then his footsteps get closer. Scratchy dark fabric suddenly covers Jensen’s eyes, Misha’s deft fingers tie the blindfold behind his head, and the world goes pitch black. It’s tight, but loose enough he can still blink comfortably, but the material is rough and it burns everywhere it touches his skin. 

“Stay here and don’t move,” Misha orders. “When you’ve decided you want to be obedient, call my name. If you want out, use your safeword.” 

Jensen huffs. “What are you just gonna leave me here?”

There’s no answer but he hears Misha’s shoes recede out of the room until there’s nothing but dead air and the buzzing in his own mind.

“Mish?” Jensen tries, his own voice sounding loud in the empty room. 

Silence.

“Damn it.” 

At the beginning of the scene, Misha had him kneel on a plush carpet, soft underneath his knees. Now, his knees are starting to ache, the pressure tightening up into his thighs. It feels good, heightens his senses. The rope binding his arms digs into his wrists. He shifts his hands, adjusting his positioning, and sucks in a sharp breath when the braided rope scratches his skin. Rugburn will be there tomorrow, he’ll have to cover it up, but he’ll be reminded of its presence every time his sleeve brushes against the raw skin.

Time passes, he’s not sure how long, he has no semblance of time while in subspace. It always feels like ages while also the blink of an eye at the same time. Usually, he floats, but tonight is different. Earlier, his disobedience-induced adrenaline had thrilled him, but now he feels Misha’s absence like a living thing. The silence is overwhelming and he’s acutely aware of his heartbeat, how it pounds in his chest and in his ears. The edge of his nose itches from the blindfold and goosebumps skitter over his naked body bared to the air. A shiver glides down his spine, wracking his whole body. 

Jensen sucks in a deep breath, counts to five and releases it. Repeats. He starts to float again, but its twinged with something different, a dull ache of emptiness rolling around in his chest.

He wants Misha to come back, wants his hands on him in any way Misha will give him. He wants to be good, to let Misha take him apart, bring him back to himself and take this restless anxious energy out of him.

Underneath the blindfold, tears prick at the corner of his eyes, neediness getting the better of him. He sniffles and swallows thick as a tear slips free and slides down his cheek. 

“Mish?” 

He listens and waits for the sound of footsteps and hears nothing. 

“I need you, please. I’ll be good, I’ll be so good for you I promise, I’m sorry.” His voice cracks at the end and he drops his head, squints his eyes and fights back the tears still brimming there.

A hand cups his cheek, gentle fingers caressing his skin. “Hey, I’m here.”

Jensen half sobs in relief and falls forward into Misha’s waiting arms.

“Are you okay?” Misha asks genuine concern in his voice, clearly worried that he went too far. 

He didn’t, just far enough. Jensen is desperate for him now, basks in the feel of Misha’s hands on his back, and on his shoulders. 

“Yes,” Jensen answers and pauses briefly so Misha knows he’s being honest. “I want to be good for you.”

He’s rewarded a kiss on his cheek, short and sweet, and leans into the touch; whining in protest when Misha pulls back. 

“Good.” Misha taps Jensen’s bottom lip with his finger. “Open for me.”

Jensen licks his lips and parts them, eagerly waiting for whatever comes next.

Misha drags his thumb over the edge of Jensen’s lip, and down until it bounces back. Unbidden, a gasp leaves his throat. Now that Misha is touching him, arousal blooms in him, warming from the inside out.

“I shouldn’t praise you, you’ve been bad today,” Misha muses, stroking his thumb along Jensen’s chin. 

Jensen keeps his lips parted like Misha asked, he’ll be obedient now, just how Misha wants him. 

“But I can’t help it,” Misha continues. “You look so gorgeous.”

Jensen sits up a little taller and literally preens, the praise shooting a rush of pleasure through him. 

Misha chuckles, and Jensen feels two of Misha’s fingertips brush his bottom lip. “Now, show me how good you are and if I think you deserve it, I’ll let you come.” His fingers slip into Jensen’s mouth and Jensen opens wider to accommodate the thick V shape of them. 

Greedily twirling his tongue around the two fingers inside his mouth, he sucks like it’s Misha’s cock in his mouth instead, sloppy and wet, hollowing his cheeks so Misha knows he’s doing his best. He’s being good. Jensen feels his own cock harden when Misha starts slowly fucking his mouth. It’s filthy, just how Jensen wants Misha to fuck his mouth with his dick. Saliva pools in his mouth at the thought of having Misha’s cock in his mouth, he hopes Misha will let him. 

“Good,” Misha murmurs, stalling his movements and pins Jensen’s tongue down. He holds it until Jensen can’t take it anymore lets out a deep moan from his chest. Two more pumps into the heat of Jensen’s mouth and then Misha pulls out, gliding his slick fingers back over Jensen’s lips and down his jaw.

“Mish,” Jensen whines. “Please.”

He wishes he could see, he loathes the blindfold right now, keeping him from seeing Misha’s lust-blown eyes.

“Please what?” Misha asks and Jensen can hear the smirk on his face.

“Fuck me.”

“No,” Misha answers, firmly. “Not tonight, but I do want to see you.”

A sound like a question leaves Jensen’s lips and he feels hands behind his head, answering for him, working the blindfold loose. 

“Remember, open slowly,” Misha says and Jensen nods. 

He squints his eyes and opens slow, letting the light come in a bit at a time, eyelashes fluttering. Misha comes into focus, smiling soft, eyes blown wide with lust just like Jensen knew they would be. His hand drops to Jensen’s cheek, resting on the curve of his jaw and then slides down his neck. Their gazes lock and like always it’s a special kind of electrifying Jensen finds addictive. 

There’s something in Misha’s eyes that he’s always been drawn to, trusted when he couldn’t find his way or figure something out. He lets Misha lead him now, loses himself in Misha’s touch. A thumb rolls over his nipple and Misha pinches it between his fingers just to make Jensen gasp. Dropping lower, Misha grinds the heel of his hand against Jensen’s aching cock and Jensen sags forward, whining, searching for friction against Misha’s hand. 

“Not yet,” Misha chides, pulling back with a click of his tongue. “It’s my turn.”

He pats Jensen’s thigh twice and rises to his feet in front of him. With the blindfold gone, Jensen can freely look at him now, up through his eyelashes, while Misha undoes his belt. He takes off all of his clothes, and Jensen watches, entranced in the smooth tan of Misha’s skin, the taut muscles up his thighs that tighten and shift while he moves. He focuses on Misha’s cock, hard and flushed, curved up towards his stomach. 

Keeping eye contact, Misha wraps a loose fist around his cock, gives it a few easy strokes and steps in close. 

_Fucking finally._

Jensen bites his lip and soothes it with his tongue. 

“You want this?” Misha asks, arching an eyebrow.

Jensen smirks. “Yes, sir.”

A hand goes into his hair, stroking and grasping the tight strands, tugging Jensen’s head forward. Jensen parts his lips instinctively, and gasps when the head of Misha’s cock drags over his bottom lip. He darts his tongue out, licking at Misha’s slit. 

“So slutty,” Misha groans. He tugs Jensen closer and slides all the way in. 

Jensen opens his mouth and throat as much as he can and takes him deep. Without the use of his hands, it’s difficult, but Misha sets an easy pace of fucking his mouth, keeping a tight grip on his hair. 

When Misha pulls out, Jensen leans back in to suck his balls into his mouth, wet and sloppy, earning a quiet and shaky, “Fuck,” from Misha. He gets Misha panting, feels Misha’s thigh start to tremble against his cheek and sits back to look up at him. 

“Did I say you could stop?” Misha asks, voice shaking, which lessens the power of his dominance only marginally.

“No, sir, but I wanted to see you.”

Misha groans. “Keep going.”

Jensen smirks and licks his lips nice and slow, playing it up, knowing exactly how hot he looks. Then he leans back in, guided forward by Misha’s capable hands. He drags his tongue up the length of his cock, making sure to keep his eyes on Misha’s the whole time. Jensen takes him deep and gives Misha full control, letting him use Jensen how he wants. 

Less than a minute later, Jensen feels Misha’s hand goes slack in Jensen’s hair in a warning and silent permission. Jensen pulls back and off, eyes slipping shut right as Misha groans and starts to come, right on Jensen’s face. Jensen smiles and sticks out his tongue because he knows how much Misha loves it when he does. 

“God, Jensen.”

He licks his lips clean and smirks, reopening his eyes. 

Misha drops to his knees in front of Jensen, cupping his cheeks between his hands. “You’re something else,” he says, and kisses him deeply, more tongue than anything else, licking the taste of himself out of Jensen’s mouth. Their mouths separate with a wet pop and Jensen leans back in for more, whining impatiently when Misha presses a finger to Jensen’s lips and shakes his head. 

“Do you think I should let you come?” 

“Please?” Jensen says, hopefully. 

He’s not sure he’ll be able to sleep if he doesn’t, he’s almost lightheaded with how turned on he is. 

Misha worries his bottom lip between his teeth and gazes at Jensen, looking over him, and then his mouth twitches up into a smirk. “You proved to me you do remember how to be obedient so I guess you deserve a reward.”

“I agree,” Jensen says, with a curt nod, lips twitching in amusement.

Misha arches an eyebrow at him, regarding him suspiciously. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

Jensen shakes his head, all faux innocent and sits up a little taller, side-eying Misha as he moves around behind Jensen. Hands toy with the binding on his wrists and as it loosens, Jensen rolls his wrists, wincing as they start to ache. He keeps them behind his back, even after the binding is gone, waiting for explicit permission to move. Misha pads around behind him, putting the blindfold and rope away, and Jensen waits. There’s a constant thrumming of arousal under his skin, he feels almost intoxicated with it. He tries to even his breathing, thinking about anything other than moving his hands to touch himself.

Misha comes into view and instead of stationing himself in front of Jensen as he had been, he sits down into the chair a dozen feet across from Jensen. He spreads his thighs, getting situated and comfortable and Jensen’s mouth waters just looking at him. 

“Come here,” Misha orders, patting his thigh. 

“You can use your hands,” Misha says, softer, and Jensen nods his thanks. 

His toes tingle a little as he stands and he winces from the stiffness in his legs from staying so long in one position. But he feels good, giddy even, as he crosses the room to Misha. 

He pauses in front of Misha, hands loose at his sides, itching to reach out and touch. “How do you want me?”

Misha reaches out, brushing his fingertips down Jensen’s chest, down and over the edge of his hip. He grips Jensen’s side with a firm palm and Jensen hisses, barely managing to keep control. “In my lap.”

Moving instantly, Jensen straddles his waist, letting Misha guide him where he wants him. He clasps his shaking hands behind Misha’s neck and helplessly rolls his hips. Their cocks bump together and Jensen lets out a very embarrassingly high-pitched whine. 

“Mish.”

Misha shushes him and kisses him through a moan. With a tighter grip on Jensen’s hips, he forces him to still, while Jensen pants into his mouth, losing his goddamn mind.

“I’m going to help you, but I want you to take what you need. Show me how desperate you are.” Misha whispers against his lips. 

“Not gonna take long.”

Misha chuckles and drags his lips over, pressing an open-mouthed kiss on Jensen’s jawline, and pats his hip. “Good.”

Now that he has permission, Jensen starts rocking his hips against, grinding down into Misha’s lap, against his cock and his hips, chasing releases. He wants his mouth and takes that too, kisses him, licks into his mouth, and tries to get as close as their bodies will allow. One of Misha’s hands slides up his back, wide palm tracing out patterns across his skin, leaving burning goosebumps in its wake. He lets Jensen grind against him, but slides a hand between their bodies when Jensen lets out a groan of frustration, impatient and needy for release. Jensen cries out in relief when he wraps his warm palm around both of their cocks, thumbing at the slit and gathering pre-cum to ease his strokes. Misha his pace slow and methodical, making Jensen work for it. 

They keep kissing until Jensen gets close and pulls back to press his forehead against Misha’s, their lips brushing as he pants. All it takes is one flick of Misha’s thumb over the head of his cock and Jensen is coming, right into his fist and all over Misha’s stomach.

“Good boy,” Misha murmurs approvingly, kissing the side of his neck, his jaw, any bit of skin his mouth can find. “So good.”

Jensen pants into the crook of Misha’s shoulder and neck, slowly coming down and finding his breath again. He scoots closer, and Misha’s arms move to wrap up around his back, cradling him against his chest. Jensen breathes and lets Misha’s hold him, and drifts while Misha kisses the freckles covering the curve of his shoulder. 

“Thank you,” Jensen whispers once he’s found his breath again. 

“It was a rough start, but you did so good for me. Was that okay?” Misha asks. He’s started tracing shapes onto Jensen’s back with his fingertips, comforting and grounding, a ritual they formed once they started scening. It brings Jensen back down from the high, back to stasis and to himself. 

Jensen pulls back to look at him, makes sure Misha sees the honesty in his eyes. “Yeah, you always know what I need, even if it’s not what I expect.”

Misha sighs happily and slides a hand up into his hair, gently stroking through it. “What do you need now?”

Jensen thinks about it for a moment, focusing on the caress of Misha’s hands in his hair and on his skin. They have a list of pre-approved post-scene activities that work for both of them, though it varies depending on the day. “A bath sounds nice, sorta just want you to hold me,” Jensen says, making his point clear by nuzzling his nose against the side of Misha’s neck. 

“I need that too,” Misha agrees. “A bath it is.”

He takes one of Jensen’s hands and slots their fingers together, carefully guiding Jensen up off his lap and steady on his feet. Once he’s up, Misha follows, ensuring to keep physical contact. Without it, after an activity like this, while on the milder end, Jensen gets anxious and can drop quickly. Misha always does everything in his power to make sure that doesn’t happen. 

Jensen squeezes his hand and bumps into his shoulder, a smile forming on his face, to let Misha know he’s alright. An answering smile appears on Misha’s face, and he squeezes back, then steps forward leading Jensen out of his subspace induced fog.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this horny mess. Come find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/anastiels)! <3


End file.
